You're not anything
by Krismarie
Summary: Marriage? That word was definetly not in Bella Swan's vocabulary, until she found out that she was to be married, and to a complete stranger! Will she manage to pull through? And who was her fiancée, anyway? Summary sucks, but I think the story's good.
1. Realization

**Second story here! I hope you like it! Please review!**

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"Bella's getting married."

The words rang in my ears, fresh out of my mother's mouth. What did she mean? Me? Getting married? That had to be a joke.

I pressed my ear against the living room door, and listened harder.

I heard Charlie sigh.

"Does she really?" he asked warily.

My mom was silent for a moment, before she whispered, "Yes."

Right then and there, my world shattered.

I could tell they were serious. They had been acting strangely for the past 4 weeks. My parents had been tenser… more cautious around me.

What was this? Seriously! What the hell where they talking about?! Me, getting married?! I was only 17, for heavens sake! Oh, no, no! This was a joke; this had to be! They had to be kidding me!

Infuriated, I burst into the living room, my eyes brimming with anger-indulged tears.

"Tell me you're not serious!" I begged, my parents staring at me in wide surprise, "Tell me it's a joke. That you were rehearsing for a play or something! Tell me!"

They just stared sadly at me. Then my father spoke.

"Bells, sweetie, I thought you were at Angela's…"

He trailed off when I glared at him.

"Oh, don't you dare change the god-damn subject! Tell me!"

My parents exchanged a look; a look that said everything.

Oh, this was unbearable! Unjust! This had to be criminal, cause it was certainly evil! My breath hitched in my throat, and I gasped.

"Bella? Bella!" my mother shouted in alarm, jumping up from the couch to stand by me.

My breathing turned to gasping, and I clutched my chest in support. There was no support. Of course not. My life was ruined. I might as well be dead.

"Oh, Bella!" my mother yelled, and then screamed, "Charlie, oh Charlie, take her to the hospital now!"

Charlie jumped up from his seat, while Renee frantically blew air into my face.

It was really hard to breathe now. Extremely hard.

My instincts told me to breathe, and I inhaled desperately, but my lungs didn't want to cooperate. As soon as the air entered, they blew it back out again.

"Mom!" I gasped, "I can't breathe!"

And then everything went black.

There was a song. A faraway tune. Yes, that was it. I could hear it now, even when my eyes couldn't see. I had gotten accustomed to the darkness; it was only expected in death. Yes, death was dark. Oh, but there was a song…

Something warm brushed against my subconscious. Or was it cold? The song, the wonderful tune that I had heard just a second ago was distant now; almost gone. No! It couldn't be gone! I needed something. Something other than the dark. I searched for that song again, but it had disappeared.


	2. At the hospital

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**Second chapt of this story. I haven't been getting that much reviews... Only one, to be exact.. By the way, thanks! **

**This chapt. is dedicated to that one person that reviewed!**

**Disclaimer- I dont own Twilight.  
**

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I heard murmurs, which meant I wasn't alone.

"Is she alright, doctor?" I heard my father ask. The song had long ago been lost. I didn't need it now, though. I could hear everything. Which, in other words, meant I wasn't dead.

"She'll be fine," I heard a male voice say, "Her heart's fine, her lungs seem to be working properly, and it seems as if she wont be needing the oxygen mask any more."

Oh. Oxygen mask. No wonder something sounded like air being blown through a hollow metal tube.

Yuck. Doctors meant hospitals, and hospitals meant needles. Double yuck. Let's just pray I live long enough or short enough (whichever the case) to never have to use one of those ever. I'll kill myself on purpose.

My mom touched my arm. I could tell it was her, because I could feel her engagement ring on her ring finger.

Oh no. Bad thought.

It all came crashing down on me then. The wedding. Oh, that stupid wedding that I had no notion about, the stupid fiancée whom I've never met, and my stupid, stupid, stupid parents who messed up my whole life. I felt the urge to slap my mother's hand away from me, but I fought it. It'd be better if I left them with the doubt of whether I'll pull through or not. I read somewhere that parents live in constant worry for their child's life. Well, they would have to worry now.

"Bella, oh Bella, I love you," my mother whispered, and I felt a warm drop on my arm.

Oh no. My mother better not be crying. She'd better…

"Bella, I'm sorry," she continued, her voice broken, "I wish… I wish you could understand what I'm going through… understand what…"

She broke into tears then, and I couldn't stand it. I opened my eyes, and the light blinded me.

Stupid hospital. Where on earth do you put a fluorescent lamp right above a patient's face?!

With all my strength (which I have to say wasn't much), I raised my hand to cover my face, and opened my eyes carefully. Then, when I grew accustomed to the light, I extended my hand to place it on my mother's shoulder.

"Bella?" she asked, her eyes puffy and red, "You're awake, sweetie?! Oh, you're awake!"

She jumped up then, and, taking my hand in hers, bent forward to hug me.

"Mom, I'm fine."

"Oh, sweetie, we thought we'd lost you," she said, her eyes once again filling with tears.

"I'm right here mom," I said in what I hoped was a strong voice.

My dad, who was now standing next to the bed, patted my head, "There's my kid."

His eyes were tear-filled, too.

I smiled a little, and raised my right hand to pat him.

I screamed.

"What's wrong?!" both my parents screamed hysterically. I stared at them with wide eyes, and raised my hand again.

"It's… it's…" I stammered, "It's a needle!!!"

That last part was a shriek so loud that the doctor and two nurses came running in.

"Is everything alright?! Is she hurt?" the blonde doctor asked.

"TAKE IT OUT! TAKE IT OUT NOW!"

Ok, so maybe I was exaggerating, but I have a phobia to needles, and having a needle inside of me isn't one of my best interests.

"Take out what?" the doctor asked, calmly this time. He figured I wasn't dying. But that didn't mean I wouldn't suffer permanent mind damage.

"The stupid needle! Take it out!"

The doctor stared at me for a second, before shaking his head, "Not yet, Bella. We have to wait until you've recovered completely," he said in a soothing voice.

"It'd be IMPOSSIBLE for me to recover when I have a needle in me!"

Charlie chuckled, "It's alright, Doctor Cullen. If she can scream that loud, she has already recovered."

The doctor didn't seem to agree, but with a sigh, told one of the nurses to remove the IV.

Thank God.

Later that afternoon

"Bella, may I come in?" I heard my mother's voice say from outside the door. I put the book down, and squeaked, "Yeah."

Ok, so maybe screaming at the top of my voice when I had just recovered from an asthma attack wasn't the best thing.

Yeah, an asthma attack. God, could my life get any worse?

My parents had found out, long ago, that I suffered from a mild chronic lung disease. They didn't worry back then, because it wasn't severe or dangerous. Now that turned out like they planned.

The blonde doctor (whose name was Carlisle Cullen), said that I had to take care of myself, and for me to take things easy.

Yeah, easy for him to say. The thing is, I couldn't take anything smoothly because… (and I'd let you guess here) I'm getting married!

It turns out my near-death experience did nothing to change my status of 'engaged'.

My parents don't want to talk about it, because any mention of the subject is sure to send me spiralling down another one of my asthma attacks, and we wouldn't want that…

I'm not sure what's better… me dead, or me spending the rest of my days a miserable wife?

"Bella, we need to talk," my mom said as soon as she set foot in the room. I stared blankly at her.

"About your engagement…"

I held a hand (now IV free!) to silence her, "I'm not willing to listen to anything other than, 'Your fiancée got devoured by starving alligators."

She scowled at me, "Bella…"

"Doctor Cullen said I should take things easy, so if you excuse me…" I picked up the book that I had put down.

She stomped to where I was and ripped the book out of my hands.

"Bella, listen to me!"

"Hey, I was reading that!" I complained.

"After," she said, and sat on one side of the bed, "Bella, don't you think we need to discuss this."

"Why?! Nothing I say is going to change your plan to ruin my life!"

"We're not trying to ruin your life Bella," she said, "We're trying to make it better."

"How is getting married supposed to make my life better?!"

My throat burned, but I didn't care.

"Don't yell, sweetie," she said calmly. I glared at her.

"Do NOT call me sweetie!" I screamed, my throat ablaze, "I don't care what your reasons are! I don't care anymore! All I'm asking is for you to leave me alone and let me wallow in my fucking misery!"

That was a really long sentence, and I was out of breath at the end.

"Bella…" my mom threatened, "Just listen, and then you can do wallow in your misery how long you want."

I scowled at her, impatient for her departure.

"Bells, the reason you're getting married is because… well, because your grandmother Marie made a deal with a family, which stated that when the time was right, her granddaughter, which means you, would get married with the family's grandson, which means your fiancée, in order for the two families to join…."

I cut my mother off by laughing; it was a laugh without humour.

"That is the stupidest, most idiotic thing I have ever heard!" I exploded, "It's pathetic! I mean, what the hell?!"

The shock was too much. I felt as if I would burst any second now.

"Your grandmother knew what she was talking about," my mother said.

"Oh, really? Are you sure? Because, the way I see it, marrying your granddaughter to some stranger isn't exactly the works of a sane mind."

Ouch. I hurt my mother there. Calling my grandmother crazy hit my mother like a whip would hit a stallion.

"You don't know what you're saying," she said after a while, her eyes flashing.

"Maybe not, but neither do you? How come she didn't marry you off?"

"Because I was already married, and she met Louise 4 years before she died!"

I did the mental math. My grandmother had died when I was 12, so…

"So you mean I was 8 when she decided to bind me up in the hands of marriage?!"

I was alive when she made that decision. And she didn't even ask me…

My mother didn't say anything.

I did. "I hope you realize what you're doing here. You're ruining my life, my hopes, and all the plans I had for the future."

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**Let's play a guessing game! Guess to whom Bella's engaged!! You can do it!  
**

**-K  
**


	3. Boxes

**I took a really lonnng time! So sorry! And even though it's only a little, ity biny tiny bit of people who are reading this, they are BIG people because the keep up with me! Thanks, and keep holding on! **

**Disclaimer- No Twilight character belongs to me. But I will bribe Edward off Stephenie! I will!  
**

**Later…**

Mom didn't want to continue our conversation and to be truthful, neither did I. I just didn't have the strength. I figured it was better for me to resign, and not make a huge fuss about this. And even though marriage was possibly the worst thing that could happen to me, I knew I didn't really have a choice. And there was divorce, anyway…

I heard voices outside my room; it sounded like my parents and someone else... I checked the clock. 7:27 pm.

"Do you think marriage is the most sensible thing right now, with Bella's condition and everything?" I heard a voice say; it sounded like that doctor's voice… Carlisle Cullen…

I heard my mum sigh. "I don't know…"

"Because," Dr. Cullen continued, "Edward's not too happy about it, either. In fact, he threatened with suicide. Who knows what got into that boy?"

I listened harder. Yeah, I was prone to listening to people's conversations, but only when they involved me.

"He had been going out with a girl, and I think that's the main reason why he doesn't want to marry Bella," the doctor continued (and how was it that he knew so much?), "Otherwise, he'd consider it an honour."

So my fiancée to be wasn't too happy with the wedding. That's a shocker. And I highly doubt anyone would consider it an honour to marry a complete stranger.

"So your son has no plans for marrying my daughter?" I heard my dad ask, his tone half-relieved, half-outraged. There was a brief pause, "Oh, no. He's marrying her," Dr. Cullen said.

So I was marrying Dr. Cullen's son? Big improvement. I didn't even know the guy had a son.

"How can you be sure?" Renée asked.

"Because Edward loved his grandmother, and he doesn't want to leave her dying wish unfulfilled."

That made me want to gag. Oh, so the guy was only marrying me because he wanted to fulfil his deceased grandmother's wish. Yeah right. I'd rather get run over by an ice cream truck than believe that load of bullshit.

Wait, what? Get a hold of yourself, Bella! You're judging the guy before you even met him!

I suddenly felt really bad. He didn't deserve that sort of behaviour (at least, I think he didn't), his grandmother didn't deserve that sort of behaviour, and my grandmother certainly didn't deserve it.

I might as well suck it up and enjoy what was left of my freedom.

2 weeks later

I was out of the hospital and into hell. Everything around me was filled with blasted wedding preparations and happy blessings and joyful cries of excitement; well, of agony, from my part. And the worst thing of all was that I wasn't even allowed to complain or cry or behave miserably in public; no one was allowed to know that the wedding was arranged.

Oh, I felt like dying.

I didn't show it, though. I figured it would be of no use, since my parents already had their minds set.

So I just sucked it up (like I'd promised myself), and crawled and dragged myself around the house without talking to anyone unless I absolutely had to. After a few days like that, my parents stopped trying.

One day (it was a Sunday, 2 weeks before the wedding); I set my mind to clean the basement; one that hadn't been cleaned in years. I just needed to get my mind off the god darn wedding, and cleaning was the best solution. It kept my hands and head busy.

Wearing my favourite sweatpants, and one of my dad's old shirts, I made my way to the basement with a vacuum cleaner, a duster, and three boxes.

"Where are you going with that, sweetie?" my mum asked from behind a large bouquet of roses.

"Basement," I panted as I tried to balance a box on top of another one.

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**This was a really short chapter. So sorry! I just don't feel like writing! **

**Love all of you who reply!!!  
**


	4. Diary

**I updated! Yey! **

**Thanks so much to those who review! Love you! **

**Disclaimer- I don't own Twilight or any of its characters.  
**

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Renée nodded, and handed me the bouquet. I stared at her.

"What are those for?"

"They're from Edward… your fiancée," she murmured, looking around the room.

"I don't want them." That sounded rude. Good.

She started to look uncomfortable.

"Maybe not sweetie, but please accept them. See, they're pretty." She shoved the roses in my face as if to prove her point.

I rolled my eyes, pushing the roses away, "Yeah, and so are jellyfish. Try holding one of those."

"Just get them!" she said, impatient.

This time she slammed the roses on top of the boxes on my arms, causing me to lose the little balance that I had. All the boxes (plus the roses) fell down on the floor.

I just stared at them.

My mum started laughing. I shifted my gaze to her, creeped out.

"I'm sorry! You should've seen your face," she chuckled.

"Right."

Maybe weddings caused psychological breakdowns. That was definitely happening to my family.

I picked up the boxes, kicked the roses under a table, and went down to the basement.

I was met by the smell of 5 years of negligence and dust. Dust, dust, dust, dust.

I was almost intoxicated by it. At first I covered my mouth and nose. Who knew what so much dust could do to me and my stupid asthma?

Walking slowly and trying not to breathe as much as possible, I placed the empty boxes on top of an antique-looking dresser, and then looked around.

The light of the basement didn't work, so everything was dark. I could still see the outline of many of my grandma's belongings, though. Her favourite china lamp, her elaborate music box, her full body mirror…

My grandma was a lady of many hobbies, and that reflected upon her belongings. Everything she owned was elaborate and delicate; she was elaborate and delicate. From her many gowns to her sporting clothes, everything was in top shape and of the finest quality. I sucked in a huge breath, and then sneezed.

Darn it! I wasn't supposed to breathe.

With a hand over my mouth, I got out of the basement. Then, running as fast as my clumsiness allowed me, I went to the garage and searched around for a flashlight. Having found one, I ran back to the basement.

The light from the flashback was of great help. I could see everything more clearly. Every dust covered, spider web infected thing, that is.

There was something at the back of the basement that caught my attention, though. It was a chest. Like a treasure chest, except way more feminine. It was silver and gold, with nothing but a golden string where the lock should have been. Dazed, I jumped my way over the few of my grandma's books scattered on the floor (I'd look at those later), and bent down next to the chest.

It was indeed a splendid chest. I didn't remember ever seeing it before. Feeling a little like an intruder, I untied the string from the chest and opened it.

The inside surprised me.

It was empty. Well, not empty. But not full, either. All that was in it was a book; a wrinkly, leather bound book with a rose on the cover. The rose was my grandmother's favourite flower. My hands shaking, I lowered them into the chest (which was deep), and wound them around the book. It was heavier and thicker than I expected.

Holding my breath, I opened the book and took a look at the first page.

I read out loud:

_"This diary belongs to Marie Dwyer, married to Richard Dwyer, mother of Renée Dwyer, and grandmother of Isabella Swan."_

Wow. A diary. I had no idea my grandmother kept one of those.

I was about to turn the page when I realized that this was my grandmother's diary; a place where she wrote down her deepest secrets… it wasn't exactly open to the public. As I was about to shut it close, a piece of pink paper fell out of it.

My conscience couldn't stop me this time. I read the paper.

_"Whoever of my family that comes upon this has the absolute authority to read it."_

Well, I guess that means I have the authority.

Strangely anxious, I opened the book once more and skipped to the first page.

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**Sorry it's soooo very short. There's tons of HW for me right now! **

**Also, what does hits mean? I see it all the time at the story traffic, and I have no idea what it means!  
**


	5. First entry

**Finally, a new chapter. And yes, they're all really short... the thing is, I write them as I go, so I don't really have that much time. **

**Thank you, all who review! And thanks to all who are pacient enough to wait for me, while I take forever. **

**I think it's better if I take a day to write down the whole thing, and then I'll post weekly or something. Anyhoo, hope you enjoy! Thank you for putting up with me! **

**Disclaimer- "I have met Stephenie Meyer, and she said Twilight belongs to me!" Yeah, I wish. Steph owns it all.  
**

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_"Dear Kat,"_ it read.

Kat? You've got to be kidding me... I continued reading.

_"I've just moved to Forks; which is really odd, for me. Renée kept on insisting and I… well, I gave in. I think it's for the best. Charlie's looking good. He's looking…happy? I must say, I am glad Renée paid no attention to me when I warned her against marrying that man. She looks happy, too. And, oh dear, you wouldn't believe how beautiful little Isabella's turning out to be! She's a real princess! Princess Bella, she says. She's 7 now. It had been 3 years since I'd seen her last. Oh my, how she's changed. And she's skinny. Really skinny. I wonder if Charlie's feeding her…"_

I turned the page quickly, all respect for my grandmother's privacy gone. My life, and my grandma's life as well, seemed way more interesting from her point of view.

_"Although, seeing as he can't even toast bread, I bet Renée did all the cooking (which is a surprise, since most of her meals are hardly edible)…"_

I laughed at that. My grandmother certainly had a point.

I continued.

_"That leaves me to do the cooking, which is just dandy by me. Bella helps, too. It seems like she's inherited her grandma's cooking skills (thank God!). She's a real talker (both conscious and unconscious)…"_

I had to blush at that.

_"…she talks about school, boys, games, boys…"_

Another blush. I did not talk about boys.

_"And then there's **a** boy; the core of her obsession. I don't know his name, or who he is, for that matter. All I know is what Bella told me (and I quote): Shiny green eyes and the most unbelievable hair! I know she does not crush on him (she's only 7) but she does like him. She told me she wanted him as a brother. I'll try and see what I can do._

_Lots of love, Marie."_

I closed the diary, shocked. Who knew…

My grandmother had never been one to talk about how she felt. The only times she did were when she was incredibly happy; like when she first came to Forks. My mother had begged and begged, and my grandmother, as much as she disliked Forks, decided to give it a shot. I remember when she first arrived…

**Flashback: **

"Bella, will you come downstairs?" I heard my mother ask.

"Why?" I called back, ruffling the hair of my Barbie.

"We've got a surprise for you," was all she said.

Sighing, I put my Barbie back inside her house, next to Ken, and went downstairs. There, at the bottom of the stairs, wearing a huge hat and surrounded by what seemed like a million suitcases, was my grandmother.

I didn't actually remember her when she was away. After all, the last time I'd seen her was during my 4th birthday. All I knew was that she was my mum's mom, and that she was white. White hair, white face, white everything. Like Snow White, but without the black raven hair.

She smiled at me, her eyes crinkling, and extended her arms to me. There, at that moment, I knew that she was my grandmother, and that I'd missed her more that I realized.

With a squealing, "Grandma!", I ran towards her and enveloped her in a huge hug. She smelled like strawberries and cream, and she was soft, like a teddy bear.

"Oh my dear, Isabella! I've missed you!" she said, tears in her eyes. I hugged her harder.

"Me too," I said, happy. My grandmother, at last.

**End of Flashback**

I had to wipe a way a tear that had escaped my eyes. Just like when I was 7, I never realized how much I actually missed my grandmother. My confidant, my best friend, and my second mother.

I instantly regretted saying all those things about her at the hospital. My grandmother cared more about me than I'd given her credit for. And if she wanted me to marry some weird stranger, then that was fine with me….

By the way, I never recalled the name of that boy I talked so much about. My 7-year old memories seem so distant now; like a dream.

Wrapping my grandmother's diary in one of her scarves, I tucked it inside one of the pockets of my dad's shirt. Then, looking around the basement, I sighed.

My grandmother certainly was someone special, and it was a shame all of her possessions had been left here, gathering dust. On the other hand, I had promised myself I'll do something to keep myself occupied… I just hadn't thought about the diary… it was like an obsession, that diary… a book I just couldn't put down or ignore. I had become so engrossing to me.

With yet another sigh, I grabbed the vacuum and one of the boxes. The diary would just have to wait.

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**If you're reading this, CONGRADULATIONS! You've made it through a chapter! Next step, REVIEW! Thanks! **

**Love, **

**K  
**


	6. Meeting, greeting didn't work out

**Hi there. **

**I am so sorry I scared my few readers away with my really, really long absence. I am really sorry, and if I could, I'd promise I wont do it again. **

**Unfortunately, I can't. **

**And I'm sorta writing this in hiding. Because I'm supposed to be studying but... well, who cares anyway. **

**This is the 6th chapter. The longest chapter yet. It took me a while. It took me a long while. **

**And I'm kinda tired of the story line. Jeesh. I flip through plots quicker than lightning strikes. **

**Anyway, I don't remember if I already posted the beginning (of this chapter), but whatever. **

**Love you guys! **

**Disclaimer- I do not own Twilight. There. Simple and straightfoward. **

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After spending nearly the whole afternoon cleaning the basement and my grandmother's possessions, I put the vacuum away and dragged myself to my room, exhausted. I had just finished changing into my improvised pyjama (cotton shorts and a tee that said GREEN in blue letters), flopped down on my bed, and was about to open my grandmother's diary when my mother called me for dinner.

"I'm not hungry!" I sort of snapped loudly. I shouldn't have, though; my mum had done nothing wrong. I was just a little bit irritated with everything and a lot desperate to read my grandmother's other entries.

"I don't care, Bella. Come down for dinner," my mum called back in the strangest tone; not angry… more like embarrassed. I ignored her.

She really wasn't supposed to be forcing me into anything, taking into consideration the fact that she was handing me over to some complete stranger.

"Bells, come down, please." This time it was my dad calling. He wasn't supposed to be forcing me into anything, either.

"Bella," my father said again. It was a warning; that much I knew. Sighing loudly and rolling my eyes at nobody, I carefully placed my grandma's diary under my pillow and walked out of my room, slamming the door in the process. To let them know I was headed downstairs.

My behaviour wasn't entirely logical, but being married at 17 wasn't logical, either.

I sort of slugged down the stairs, in no mood to face my parents.

I entered the dining room with a sour look on my face; one that quickly turned to surprise when I saw that there were four people at the table.

"Bella," my dad acknowledged me. It took me a few seconds to realize that he was both talking to me and presenting me.

I broke my eyes away from the two strangers at the table to glare at my dad. Both he and my mum were looking at with half-shocked, half-apologizing expressions. I looked down at my pyjamas. Then back at my parents. Then back at my pyjamas. Finally, someone cleared their throat.

I looked over at Dr. Cullen, who apparently, had been the one to interrupt.

"Hello Bella. We are so sorry for the surprise… we thought that you had been informed, and..:" he trailed off.

I felt the blush rush to my cheeks. Dr. Cullen at my house. Check. Staring at my pyjamas. Check. With my unknown-yet-right-in-front-of-me fiancée. Double check.

That's who he was referring to when he said 'we'. I suddenly felt like running out of there, fast. I was even willing to risk tripping over perfectly flat surfaces and break all the bones in my body, as long as I got the hell out of there.

"Bella, we would like for you to come and have dinner with us and Dr. Cullen and his son," my mum said nervously.

"I am here," I managed to croak out.

"Yes…" my mum said, spying sideways on Dr. Cullen and son," But you should…" my dad cut her off.

"You should go change, since we are eating out," he said with a little more confidence than my mum. I nodded slowly, and then got out of there as calmly as I could manage. As soon as I got out of the dining room, I ran.

Shit, shit, shit. I did not deserve this, I thought angrily to myself as I stormed inside my room and threw myself on the bed. This degree of humiliation was unbearable, and it was just the beginning. It was so not fair!!

Suddenly I couldn't help it, and I screamed into my pillow. It didn't even help if I closed my eyes, because the only image in my brain right now was that of Dr. Cullen and his son, staring awkwardly at me when I was standing in the dining room.

It really didn't help my humiliation that Dr. Cullen's son was… well, not so ugly. Seriously, I had already come up with my own, imaginary, drop-dead ugly fiancée- it made matters worse the fact that he was actually decent. Yeah, probably much more than that, but I definitely wasn't going to admit that to myself. Not yet.

What really shocked me about him were his eyes. Those familiar eyes. Those were the first pair of eyes I had met when I entered the dining room, and those were actually the first pair of eyes that made my heart start beating double time. They made me nervous; he made me nervous. The way he looked at me: slightly interested yet completely bored. Yes, I was not making any sense now. It didn't matter.

What did matter was the fact that I was to be married to him, a complete yet beautiful stranger, who apparently was not the least bit interested. It hurt. And if I were a guy, my ego would've shrunk exponentially.

Jeesh. Now I just didn't make sense; I was being completely irrational.

I am not a guy, and I probably would never be a guy, so why the hell does that matter?

A quiet knock on my door sent me out of my internal dilemma.

"Come in," I managed to say as I sat up on my bed immediately and wiped away the tears I didn't know I had.

"Bella?" my dad asked, poking his head in through a miniscule opening between my door and its frame.

"What?" I managed to ask halfway decently. He threw me a pained look; somewhere between apologizing and pitying. God only knew how much I hated that look. I glared at Charlie.

He put himself together, his face a calm mask, "I wanted to see if you were ready."

"Not yet," I tried saying. I think I sounded like a rodent choking.

"Bella…" Charlie said, holding my gaze.

I looked down.

"Where's mum?" I asked. She was usually the one trying to make things better. I looked up at Charlie.

Great. Now he looked hurt.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, "I didn't mean it like th-" He cut me off.

"I know," he said, a weak grin on his face, "I just thought you needed help." He shrugged.

Of course I needed help… from a therapist.

"It's alright, dad. I know it's not your fault," I said, "It's not anyone's fault… I'm guessing things happen for a reason and…"

He cut me off again by walking into the room and pulling me into a hug. I smiled into his chest.

"Thanks dad. I needed that," I said sincerely. It was really hard for my dad to give any sort of verbal support, but his loving support was exactly what I needed right then.

"Well there… you're welcome," he said, and I could hear the grin in his voice.

Funny how life works. 10 seconds ago I was completely pissed off, and all it took was a hug from my dad to make it all better. There were just some things that did not make sense.

"Come on, Bells," Charlie said, patting me on the back, "Get ready."

I nodded, and then blushed. He noticed (of course).

"What's wrong?" he asked unsurely, not sure if he wanted to know.

I thought about it before asking, "Was that him?"

I really did not need to ask. That was him. I was sure about it. But some part of me (a really small part) hoped he wasn't; a part of me hoped for a drop-dead ugly fiancée with a geeky personality and an obsession with… well, with anything I disliked. That would give me a reason to hate him, other for than ruining my life.

Charlie nodded, looking all serious. Figures. Charlie was… well, overprotective. Just a little.

I sighed loudly and my dad threw me a weird look. I shrugged him off, and stumbled to my closet.

"Not too revealing, Bella," Charlie warned, his voice hoarse. I rolled my eyes. As if I owned anything that didn't cover 99% of my body.

"Of course not, dad. I don't know if you were there when I complained, but I certainly do not want to get married, and even less with a complete stranger," I reasoned with him, sarcastic. He just ignored me.

"He won't be a complete stranger after this afternoon," he murmured under his breath. I rolled my eyes again and went back inside my closet.

The inside of it made me feel like groaning. There was nothing. Absolutely nothing to wear. My mum had given most of my clothes to Goodwill in an attempt to make me change my style. Talk about drastic measures. With all that talk of weddings and stuff, I had forgotten about my current clothing- or in this case, current lack of. I popped my head out of my closet to throw a pleading glance at my father, who was standing in the exact same place as he had been 5 minutes ago, deep in thought.

"Dad… we have a problem," I said.

He snapped out of his reverie. "What's wrong?"

"Um… no clothes?"

He slapped his forehead, "Oh yeah. Darn Renée and…"

I cut him off. "It doesn't matter now. What matters is: what am I going to wear?"

Don't get me wrong. I'm not the type to freak out at the idea of wearing the same shirt twice the same week, or anything similar to that. What I do freak out about is the fact that my closet is completely empty.

"Just wear anything," he suggested smartly.

"Sure, dad. I'll just go and look into my closet," I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes for the third time. He sighed loudly.

"Well then, wear your mother's clothes," he said, annoyed. I glared at him briefly before sauntering out of the room to my parents'.

My mum's closet was much bigger than mine. It was a walk-in closet, with big, carved wooden doors and a carpet-lined floor. I was greeted with the smell of freshly ironed linen and designer shoes. It was really an exaggeration. My mum tends to exaggerate a lot when it comes to clothing. She practically bought the same shirt in 7 different colours; one for each day of the week.

Finding something to wear in that jungle would take all afternoon! I waked over to where the dresses were; they always seemed to fit me best. My mom's jeans were always too short and tight, and her skirts were too long.

Rummaging through the racks and racks of evening dresses, I finally found one that wasn't too showy, too sparkly, or too extravagant. This dress was semi-casual, with sleeves that stopped at my elbows, and a v-shaped neckline. It was dark green, with a gorgeous navy blue lining and belt. It was actually pretty cute; I guess fashion wasn't all that horrible once in a while.

I put it on, adjusting the belt so that it would hug my waist. Then I twirled in it. It was so soft and so light I felt like flying in it.

I then looked at my mother's shoe collection.

Now let's see… heels, heels, heels.

Oh well. I'd have to wear my converse, then. I sort of floated out of my parents' room, feeling strangely free.

Charlie eyed my dress when I sauntered into my room and started searching for my converse.

"Where'd you find that?" he asked.

"Mom's closet," I said simply, and got down on my knees to peek under the bed for my converse.

"It's a little…" he trailed off. I got up and pushed my hair out of my face. The converse were not under the bed.

"What?" I asked.

"Well," he stuttered, "It's a little too… umm, dressy?"

I rolled my eyes at him. "What do I wear, then?"

I looked at him with expressionless eyes, waiting for his answer. He started to look a bit uncomfortable.

"Never mind, then, Bells," he said, a grimace/smile on his face, "its pretty."

I nodded at him, and began to search for my converse again. Charlie noticed.

"What are you looking for?"

"My converse."

I think he said something else, but I didn't notice; where were those shoes?

"Why don't you wear your mother's shoes?" he asks a few minutes afterwards, "We're going to be late."

"Late for what?" I asked, looking under my pillow (just in case).

"Well," Charlie began, but was cut off by my mother's voice.

"Charlie! Bella! When are you planning on coming down?" her voice scolded us.

I sort of cringed; we had visitors.

I shouldn't care, though.

That's right. I don't care.

"That's why," Charlie said, grinning a little.

Huh? Why for what?

"Huh?"

"That's why we should hurry," he explained. I sighed.

"I know, Dad, but I can't find my shoes."

This was all just completely irrational. The feeling of "freedom" I felt when I put on the dress was gone now. It shouldn't have been there in the first place. I was the farthest thing from free. I shouldn't even be dressing up for a dinner I hadn't foresighted or planned. This wasn't right. I shouldn't even be in the same room with…

"Bella, are you listening to me?" Charlie shook my shoulders.

Was he talking to me?

"Sorry, dad," I said, blinking, "What were you saying?"

He threw me an exasperate look, "I was saying you should hurry!"

"But I can't find my converse!"

He shook his head, "Bella. It doesn't matter; just wear your mother's shoes."

He said it as if it were the easiest and simplest thing on this earth.

"I can't wear them!" I argued, "Not unless I want to decapitate myself."

Charlie sighed real loudly. "Bells, really. You're exaggerating!"

No I wasn't. I was 100% sure I would surely fall and break my neck if I wore those death traps my mom called shoes.

I voiced my thoughts aloud, but all Charlie did was grab me by the arm and sort of drag me back to his and Renée's room.

"Just find some decent ones, and quick," he ordered, plopping down on his king-sized bed. I glared at him as I made my way to their closet, rubbing my arm.

Now, I was being completely serious when I said that I couldn't wear any of Renée's shoes. I had tried to once. Let's just say it didn't end well. You can probably guess…

Her shoes were really not safe. They were hazardous. They were probably illegal, too.

I searched and searched for some shoes that were not heels, but all I found were 3 pairs of flip flops- absolutely nothing decent.

My mom didn't have any flats. Not even sneakers.

Come on, I prayed, something wearable…. Something wearable…

Then I saw something that made me think miracles did exist.

"My converse!" I all but yelled, scooping them up from the box they were hidden in.

My mom had hid them.

Why?

Whatever, my giddy brain told me, just put them on!

I followed my brain's advice.

They almost seemed heavenly, those shoes. After swimming in a world of heels, the only antidote was a pair of converse…

Oh God. Maybe I'm going nuts.

"Are you ready, Bells?!" Charlie asked, storming into the closet and looking ready to hit something.

"Yeah," I said lightly, not wanting him to crack. He seemed really annoyed, and that was just for being late for dinner. Imagine when I arrived late to my wedding… not that I planned to… of course not…. Not that late, anyway.

He walked out of the room dramatically, pulling me behind him.

I felt myself blush even before we entered the dinning room. Maybe I shouldn't have picked out a dress. They'd probably think I was trying to look good.

I felt sudden shock when my brain came up with an even more horrible prediction.

What if they thought I actually fancied my soon-to-be husband??

My breath sort of got caught up in my throat, and it was getting slightly hard to breathe…

Oh no. Not this again, I told myself as Charlie and I entered the living room, where the others were waiting for us.

I was not going to have a stupid asthma attack. No way.

My breathing evened out a little. I guess all it took was willpower.

No one seemed to notice my shortness of breath, but that was fine with me. The less they knew, the better.

Oh, who was I kidding? Of course they knew. Dr. Cullen had seen me at the hospital…

"Bella," I heard Charlie say. I looked up from the floor to stare at him.

"Yes?"

He just pressed his lips together. I stared at him, puzzled, until I noticed someone had stuck out a hand for me to shake. My eyes shifted from the hand to the arm, up the neck, and finally, to the face. Deep green eyes stared at me, waiting. Bored. I felt my cheeks flame up.

"Hi," my supposed-fiancée said, pulling his hand back, "I'm Edward."

My thoughts went blank. His voice…

I wasn't even sure I wasn't hallucinating…

Snap out of it Bella! Common sense scolded me.

I did. "Hi," I squeaked. I'm not even sure he heard me.

His lips sort of pulled up at the corners, but he didn't really smile.

I went back to staring at the floor. This was just too awkward for me to bear. All of this was wrong. He clearly wasn't happy to be here, I clearly wasn't happy to be marrying him, and God clearly wasn't giving a damn about it.

Jeesh. Just when I thought things couldn't get worse.

"Shall we go?" Dr. Cullen suggested, trying to break the tension that had built up.

Both Charlie and Renée nodded, and my supposed-fiancée threw Dr. Cullen a disbelieving look.

Dr. Cullen just stared at his son, his lips in a thin line. Finally, Edward looked away, his face expressionless.

My parents pretended they didn't notice the look exchanged between Dr. Cullen and son. I followed their example.

Soon afterwards, we were all tucked inside my mother's minivan. Thank heavens it was a van. I don't think I would've been able to sit close to any of the Cullens.

My dad was driving, and Dr. Cullen was in the passenger seat. Edward was sitting in the seat directly behind his father, and my mum and I were in the seats behind him.

"That's a nice dress, Bell. Why haven't you worn it before?" my mother whispered to me, as if it were a secret, but I reckoned Edward could hear.

"Thanks," I snap loudly, "It's yours. That's why I haven't worn it." Everyone in the car turned to look at me. My dad looked angry, Dr. Cullen looked surprised, and Edward looked exasperated.

I glared at each and every one of them, narrowing my eyes murderously.

I don't know what made me act like that. Anger, maybe. And tiredness. I was fucking tired of having to hide in my own house, of having to dress up, of having to forcefully say hi to a complete stranger, who apparently didn't like me or my family much. AND I was hell tired of the whole stupid marriage. I bet everyone would be SO much happier if things had been left the way it was before.

Renée stared at me, shocked. I ignored her and the others and looked out the window. I'd give anything to be anywhere else.

No one said anything the rest of the way to the restaurant. I guess they thought the situation as messed up as I did.

When we were finally at the restaurant (which was way too showy and expensive-looking), no one said anything either. We just got out of the car silently, in a sort of trance.

We were halfway inside when my mom called me aside.

I stared at the others' backs as my mother pulled me aside so I wasn't blocking the entrance of the restaurant.

"What's wrong, Isabella?" she asked in a tone that warned me against saying 'nothing'.

Nevertheless, I still did. "Nothing."

She scowled at me, "It's not nothing! Bella, if it were nothing, you wouldn't have snapped at me back in the car."

I shrugged, too annoyed to say anything. Why couldn't she leave me alone? Wasn't it enough that I was already going along with the plan? That I didn't commit suicide or run away like I had been contemplating? That I was actually trying to be civil and polite, in an uncivil and impolite world?

"Bella!" she sort of barked, "I'm trying to help you!"

Hell no she wasn't. I narrowed my eyes at her and tried to calm myself before I yelled something I would regret later.

"If you really want to help me, just let me be," I sighed, "Just for once. Let me handle things on my own. I'll get around, eventually. I just want every one to let me be for a while. That's all I'm asking."

I said all of that in one breath, and it seemed like she believed me. She gave one tiny nod and walked away. I felt like shrinking into the wall.

After smoothing out my breathing, I walked towards the table in which my parents and Thing 1 and Thing 2 were sitting.

"Hi," I said, smiling as brightly as I could without overdoing it, "Sorry for the lateness. I hope I didn't create an inconvenience."

I think I spoke through my teeth, but I wasn't particularly good at lying, so it was a miracle I actually managed to say something. Whether I said something smart was another issue. I'm not even sure you can create an inconvenience…

At least the doc seemed to buy it.

"Don't worry, Isabella," he said, smiling warmly at me, "We understand."

Wow. He was a much better liar than I was.

Thing 2 didn't buy it, though. He just ignored me, looking down at his menu.

I rolled my eyes, and then took a seat next to the doctor. Because there was no other seat available. And I definitely wasn't going sit next to Edward.

"Bella, what would you like?" my dad asked me. I shrugged, and continued to stare at the painted ceiling. I wondered why the angels wore white. Why white?

"Bella, you have to order something," Charlie insisted.

I tore my eyes away from the ceiling to look at him apologetically.

"But the waiter's not here…" I trailed off, shrugging my shoulders innocently. My dad's expression switched from calm to annoyed in a second.

"I know that, Bella," he said firmly, "But when he does arrive, you have to have picked what you wanted to eat."

I nod at him, as if I was actually paying attention, when I was really just flashbacking to my religion class, when they explained the colours and their meaning.

"So what would you like?" Charlie prompted. I sighed, because I was so close to remembering what white stood for.

"Lasagne," I said automatically. Whenever I wasn't in the mood to eat anything, I always ordered lasagne. It was my eat-when-you're-not-hungry food.

Both my dad and mom threw me a look, but otherwise said nothing. They knew my lasagne technique.

After the food arrived, I stopped staring at the ceiling and started deciphering the patterns in the tablecloth. Black square, white square, black square, white square, black square, white square…

"Bella?" some voice said.

I looked up to see Edward staring over my shoulder. I turned around and my jaw nearly dropped down in shock when I saw who was standing behind me.

"Jacob?"

He grinned at me; a smile that never seemed to falter, and sort of had a light of its own.

Then it hit me.

It really was Jacob! God, I hadn't seen him in years. He had gone off to Harvard, and I hadn't seen him since.

"Oh my God, Jacob! You're back!"

I couldn't help shouting. The excitement was just too much. I leapt up from my seat and engulfed him in a hug.

"God, Jake! When do you stop growing?" I asked him playfully. He always seemed to have gotten a growth spurt. My arms could barely wrap themselves around his neck.

"Honestly, I don't know…" he said seriously, then laughed, "My professors say it's not normal."

"Of course not," I said happily, "Nothing about you is normal."

He looked a bit hurt for a second, until I added, "You're the greatest and most wonderful person I've ever met! That's really not normal!"

Jacob's grin got impossibly bigger, and I felt my heart warm up. God knows how much I missed him.

"Would you like to join us?" Renée asked, bless her. Jacob seemed a bit doubtful, looking at Edward and Dr. Cullen, but then I wrapped my hand around his and smiled up at him. "Join us."

He nodded, smiling. He took the seat next to Edward, and I switched places with my dad so I could be next to Jacob.

"So how's life?" I begin to ask him, but then my mum clears her throat. Right. Introductions.

"Hi everybody," I say lamely, grinning like a fool, "This is my best friend Jacob. Jacob, these are," I gesture, "my parents, Dr. Cullen, and his son, Edward."

"Pleased to meet all of you," Jacob says sweetly, "I'm Bella's best friend."

I laughed at that, locking eyes with Edward briefly before looking away. Suddenly I felt a little light-headed.

"Hello Jacob," Dr. Cullen said warmly, smiling, "I'm Carlisle Cullen. I believe we have met before."

Jacob looked puzzled for a bit, but then exclaimed, "At Harvard. You were one of the head-in-chief doctors. Man, you're an example to follow!"

He shakes hands excitedly with Carlisle, and then Carlisle presents his son, "Edward," he says.

"Hi, I'm Edward," he says, smiling for the first time that afternoon, "And I'm the example-to-follow's son."

We all laugh, but I'm sort of dazed. I shook my head slightly and took a bite out of my lasagne. Wow. These actually taste good once you take a bite.

"So, Bella," Jacob says, poking my shoulder, "How'd you meet Dr. Cullen?"

"Ummm," I clear my throat, "…At the hospital."

Jacob looks quizzically at me, and then bursts out into laugher.

"Figures, Bells," he laughs, "What'd you do this time? Trip over a rock?"

He stares warmly at me, teasing.

I blush crimson, remembering. I did trip over a rock once.

"No," I say, "Asthma attack."

Jacob shuts up then, and looks apologetically at all of us at the table. "Seriously, Bells?"

I nodded.

He sighs, shaking his head. "Oh, Bella. I leave you for a few years and you're already getting yourself in trouble."

"Hey, it's not my fault," I said, punching him lightly in the arm, "Tell that to my lungs."

He looks serious and sort of scared for a while, but then lightens up and grins.

"One of these days, I'll take you to my practice," he promises.

I grin at him, "And I'll get to see how you dissect a frog?"

Jacob had an incident with a frog when he was in sophomore year; he was supposed to be dissecting a frog, but as soon as he cut it open, he fainted. I never let that go.

"Ha ha, Bells," he says, embarrassed, "As a matter of fact, you will get to see that, and much more."

Jacob was studying to be a doctor. I was actually quite proud of him. I didn't think he'd ever get over his reaction to blood.

"Good job Jake!" I said, giving him the thumbs up, "People would actually pay you to faint over them!"

Jacob grinned, trying not to show his embarrassment.

* * *

**I cut it short there because I was really not inspired. **

**Hopefully, I'll get the time to write more soon! **

**Review!**

**P.S. Today's the premiere of HARRY POTTER AND THE HALF BLOOD PRINCE! HAPPY!**


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